Valgannon had never met Thaluzont, but the fact that merely speaking of him caused Suntari to visibly shake, made Valgannon think fondly of the man. He also wondered why Thaluzont would put a mark on a lowly farm boy from Yavasura.
"If this boy's death was of such importance, why did you not send a higher ranked assassin to kill him?"
Suntari looked up at Valgannon as if trying to decide whether or not to tell him what he knew. After a long pause, and a shrug of his shoulders, he came out with it. "The boy from Yavasura is spoken of in a very old prophecy. In this prophecy he is said to be of high importance in the war against Thaluzont."
He seemed to be mulling over whether to go on or not. So Valgannon broke in.
"But we of the guild do not follow prophecies and seers, those are for the weak minded religious zealots who wish to look upon their future with some misguided hope from the lips of a dying old man or woman who has lost their mind."
Suntari lowered his brow. "That is why I did not bother sending one of our best. I thought it ludicrous, and now the man I sent has failed. It seems I underestimated the boy from Yavasura. Thaluzont will not be pleased at all."
Valgannon was beginning to see more clearly into the relationship between Suntari and Thaluzont. An evil smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he began to plot out his master’s doom. Suntari seemed lost in thought, so he cleared his throat and bowed, hoping to be dismissed. He had a beheading to see through, and was looking forward to it.
Suntari waved his hand in the air, gesturing for Valgannon to go.
As Valgannon walked down the hall, a small familiar voice came from the dark reaches in the back of his mind.
‘You know how to kill him. He is no match for you. Thaluzont will be angry with him and would be pleased with you if you were to destroy Suntari.’
He listened to the voice and answered with a thought. ‘I must wait for the right moment. Suntari is no fool and I must not underestimate him.’
‘You are his better, you need only to face him and I will help you. Kill him when you return. Kill him, and claim the throne of the guild!’
Valgannon had never heard the voice speak in such a way before, offering its aid. At first the notion startled him, to think of the voice as an actual being and not just his own manufactured way of talking to himself. But he could feel a presence which he had not noticed before. He felt something comforting him, and he welcomed its warmth.
It spoke again.
‘Attack him, and with my help you can defeat him, you need only to attack. Kill him, he is weak, and in his weakness he breaks down the strength of the guild. You must take his place, and with my guidance, you can elevate the Guild to new heights.’
Valgannon was giving full attention to the voice, he wondered if that was why he heard it so clearly now. Before, when it would speak, only a word or two would come through, urging him on in a decision he was unclear about. Now it spoke to him in length. His mind whirled at what he was hearing. The promise of power and authority rang deep into his core.
As he walked the halls of the Assassin’s Keep, he realized he was sweating. It was always cool inside the dark castle high in the mountains, yet he was sweating. The thoughts that flooded his cognizance were making his heart pump as if he was in a full sprint. He set his mind on the task of killing Stephan. He had to satisfy his bloodlust.
To Stare Death in the Eye
Suntari watched the black hearted killer exit his chamber and let out a sigh of relief. He disliked being in the same room as that man, it always put him on edge. Valgannon was death walking, and he used every precaution around him so as not to fall prey to the man’s insatiable lust for blood. Salnar did not trust Valgannon, not in the least bit, which is why he kept him under close scrutiny. He realized early on that Valgannon was a definite threat to his throne and made him messenger, so that he could keep track of him and somewhat control his actions, thus making him more predictable. But even so, Salnar knew what was behind Valgannon's eyes. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the man tried to kill him. It was unavoidable, no matter how careful he was. He hoped only to see it coming, so that he might have a chance in defeating him. He had thought to send Valgannon alone to the castle of Ortsk, in hopes that he would be killed. But such a bold action would have caused suspicion and would have dishonored Suntari, causing him to lose the respect of the guild, and maybe even his head. Not only that but a failed mission for the sake of killing off a possible usurper, would greatly anger Thaluzont.
Suntari raked his fingers through his hair, trying to think of more possibilities on how to rid himself of the deadly nuisance. At least the man would be out of his hair temporarily, hunting down Stephan. A brief feeling of hope came over him as he thought that Stephan might even kill Valgannon, but the moment was short-lived, for Suntari knew of Valgannon's skill. He was unmatched. Stephan would die at his hands and Suntari would have to think of another way to deal with the threat. Salnar hated the man simply because he never knew if he was lurking around, watching him from the shadows, and waiting to stab him in the back.
He wanted to sit and plot out Valgannon's demise but more pressing matters needed attention. Like that of Lord Thaluzont coming to take an account from him. He was indebted to Thaluzont, and yet he wished that he had never been summoned by the man.
As if cued by his thought, he heard the marching steps of the tyrant and his men echoing down the halls of the keep. Thaluzont came and went as he pleased, and all the assassins knew this, no one was to question him or get in his way. One poor soul learned that fact early on, the hard way.
Suntari waited in his chair for the warlord to come, trying to clear his thoughts and put together his report. The door to his chamber slammed open and Thaluzont marched in, followed by five of his elites, men that would kill you if they thought it a good sport. They stood taller than Suntari by almost a head, and were twice his width. Their bare arms were the size of his waist and horrific looking weapons hung from their thick leather belts. They wore similar plate mail armor, with spikes and razor sharp edges jutting out all over, giving them somewhat of a uniform look.
But even those men were dwarfed by the stature and demeanor of Thaluzont. He stood slightly over seven feet tall with massive shoulders and muscularly thick limbs. His armor was a black iron plate mail. Iron shod skulls made up his shoulder pauldrons and kneepads. His collar was lined with iron plated skulls of small vermin. The face of a small dragon skull came out of his chest piece, as if it were trying to rip out from his core. A massive labrys was strapped to his back. On the tip of the shaft, at the eye, between the two blades, sat the skull of what appeared to be a small child. A long spike jutted out from the butt of the gruesome weapon.
Suntari stood from his chair and offered a short bow. He had never feared any man until he had met Thaluzont, just being in the same room with him made Suntari's skin crawl. He didn't know what it was, but Thaluzont's dark black eyes looked as though they were devoid of a soul. What bothered Suntari even more was that sometimes, when Thaluzont was talking, his eyes were the normal, black, yet soulless eyes of a human. And yet other times, they seemed to have no white at all, only two deep black openings to an abyss. Suntari didn't fear Thaluzont because of his stature, or his status. He feared him because of what he saw in those eyes, the darkest depths of evil.
Thaluzont gestured for Suntari to stay seated and spoke, his deep voice was a low rumble that echoed throughout the room. "What news from your assassins?"
Suntari was already on edge when having to report to Thaluzont in general. This report would be the first one of failure. He was not looking forward to the delivering of it.
"Many of the marks were terminated. Some few still remain."
The look Thaluzont gave Suntari made him bring his hand up to his chest, as if he thought Thaluzont would rip out his very soul. Thaluzont did not like being led on, and stalling to keep from giving bad news was a deadly risk.
"Some few still r
emain?" asked Thaluzont calmly, but the malice in his voice seemed to cool the chamber.
Suntari chose his words carefully. "Yes my lord, but they will soon fall as well. Only minor setbacks which stemmed from the incompetence of the assassins sent. And those men are soon to be eliminated."
Suntari hadn't even seen Thaluzont's arm move, but suddenly he was hoisted into the air, held several feet off the floor by the powerful grip. He thought his windpipe would crush. Thaluzont showed no effort in holding him aloft with a single arm. His voice came as a deep growl, like a lion, warning of attack.
"Am I to regret my choice all those years ago, in bringing you over here from so far away, setting you up in this castle, and funding your Guild?" He squeezed down on Suntari's throat. "Tell me Suntari. How could it be, that one of your assassins failed in their objectives? You promised me complete success. Did you not?"
Suntari tried, but couldn't speak. The grip on his throat made it so only small grunts could escape. His saliva, with nowhere to go, drooled down his chin onto Thaluzont’s armored fist. Just as the world around him started to fade, the grip loosened, and he dropped to the floor like a sack of grain.
He gasped for air, the sensation of thousands of needles pricked at his neck and head as the blood was allowed to move again. He wiped at the tears running down the corners of his eyes and when he brought his hand back, he saw that it was red. The blood vessels in his eyes must have broken, causing them to bleed out along with the tears.
He looked up at the blurred vision of Thaluzont, who was standing over him, growing more impatient as each second passed, and spoke in a gravelly voice. "Forgive me Lord. All the leaders have fallen except one. My men could not penetrate the defenses of Ortsk. And the princess of Vorea was not present when her family was killed, but my men will find her soon enough. She only delays the inevitable."
Thaluzont seemed to think out loud as he paced around the room. "The leader of Ortsk is unknown to me, and they are a small kingdom. But prophecy speaks highly of this man, and he holds an important place in this war. However, I do not see him as an immediate threat. The Princess, on the other hand, could pose a problem." He looked down at Suntari with his soulless eyes. "You must kill her before I attack Vorea."
He snatched Suntari up by his robes, holding him aloft so that their eyes were level. Suntari's feet dangled a foot above the floor. "What of the boy in Yavasura? Did you find him?"
Suntari tried to look away from Thaluzont’s probing gaze, but he couldn't. He didn't have to speak either. Thaluzont must have known the truth by his expression. With a feral scream he launched Suntari across the room.
Suntari slammed into a book shelf, splintering it, and scattering books all over the chamber. He knew when he hit the floor that several of his ribs had broken. Pain lanced through his side and a dark red stain started to spread on his tunic. He thought for sure that Thaluzont would kill him now. He heard the loud footfalls of the man as he marched over to where Suntari was lying in a heap on the floor.
Thaluzont snatched his pony tail and jerked his head back so that he could look into his eyes. "Death is nipping at your heels, Suntari. Find the boy, and the Princess, and kill them, or your screams will be heard all over the lands of Deru."
Thaluzont released his grip, letting Suntari's head slump back down. He turned and walked back out through the door, followed by his elites who laughed at Suntari as they exited the chamber.
Suntari winced as he slowly stood up. Jolts of pain shot through his body from the side where the ribs had snapped. He felt a numbing sensation in his back and when he painfully reached behind to feel what it was, he realized that a long sliver from the splintered bookshelf had plunged into his back several inches. He pulled it out slowly, fighting back the urge to scream, and dropped it to the floor. He shook his head at yet another encounter with Thaluzont that had nearly ended in his death.
At first, Suntari had thought himself a lucky man. Thaluzont had thrown piles of gold at him and set him up in a castle of which Thaluzont had rid the prior occupants of. All Suntari had to do was recruit men from all over and train them to be assassins. Some of his best men that he had used back in his homeland had come with him, like Valgannon, and Stephan, along with a few others. But he had recruited over fifty men here in Los, young men actually, when he had found them, mostly farm boys, alone and unsure of their lives, looking for something exciting. The promise of unrivaled skill and abundant gold was all they had needed to hear, to sign their lives away. Of course there were those who, when faced with the choice of killing another, could not go through with it. Those few were then dispatched. The Guild had to remain discrete, so no one was allowed to leave once they were invited and chose to join.
Thaluzont had given Suntari plenty of time to find and train up assassins. And when the time came for his men to act, they fulfilled their initial assignments with perfection. It was when Thaluzont told Suntari to start having his men bring back children from their missions that he had received his first brush with death.
He had objected to the kidnapping of children and told Thaluzont that his men were not trained to do such things, only to kill. Thaluzont was not happy with his response and had beaten him nearly to death. That was when Suntari realized he had gone to bed with the Dark Lord himself, and now there was no way out for him but death.
When Suntari had first discovered why Thaluzont wanted the children, he could not hold back, and objected again. That time Thaluzont only laughed at him and told him to simply follow orders if he wished to remain among the living. Suntari wished he were dead every day since then. He wondered how many children Thaluzont had carried off with him this time. They had over thirty held in the dungeon of the keep and each time his men went out, they were instructed to bring more back. Each time Thaluzont visited he would take several of them back with him. Some of the children had become ill, living in the dungeon with the mold and damp conditions. Thaluzont had delivered another beating to Suntari for this, and told him that the children needed to be kept alive and healthy.
Suntari had a servant wrap his ribs. He was a doomed soul and he knew it. He never really believed in good or evil before meeting Thaluzont. Now he questioned his every decision that brought him to this point in his life. The pain in his side was almost welcome, as opposed to the emptiness he felt within. He bade his servant to fetch a group of assassins that he named out and the man rushed away to the task.
The assassins he sent for were a group of the best he could think of, still living. He would direct them to Kaheendra, they were friendly to the cause, and his men would coordinate with the spies that were already there and seek out the princess. She would have gone south out of Vorea, not north, and was probably holed up somewhere between Kaheendra and her home. He was not going to take any risks this time. He would normally not send such a large group of men for one target, but he did not wish to report another failure to Thaluzont.
Once the Princess was found and killed, they could search for the boy. Suntari spit out some bloody bile. He wished he knew of this prophecy. Thaluzont had spoken of it to him, but he wanted to read it in its entirety. Why would this foretelling, apart from all the others that those foolish people believed, give Thaluzont such worry? He had to find out. When he finished dispatching the men to Kaheendra, he would send a spy out to inquire about it. Maybe there was something to it that he could use to gain some ground against Thaluzont.
As soon as he thought it, he wished he hadn't. He felt as though his very thoughts were not safe from the ears of Thaluzont. A shiver ran up his spine at the image of what Thaluzont would do, if he thought Suntari was to betray him. He squeezed his elbow into his side, sending waves of pain through his body. He concentrated on the pain to clear his mind so he could focus on the task at hand.
The Fortified Spirit
Kyrianna woke to the grinding of the pins on the door to her cell. The small window at the top of her door, if left open, allowed her to keep track of the days that pass
ed while she was captive. It had been three so far. It was dark out now, just as it was the past two nights that they had come to get her. They would bring her to another part of the dungeon, a part that had no outside windows to spill light in among the cells. They would bring her to the room where they kept Yosu, where they would torture him in front of her in an attempt to break her spirit.
Torchlight illuminated her cell as two guards came in and hoisted her up. She could barely stand and walk without their assistance. She was weak. They fed her very little since the capture. They hadn't given her clothes either, so she had torn her sheet into pieces that she tied around her waist and breasts. It covered less of her than if she wrapped herself up in the whole sheet, but if she was thrown, or slapped, she wouldn't have to worry about dropping the sheet, as she had done so many times already. She tied her knotted, greasy hair up in a small strip of the sheet she had torn off, keeping it out of her face. Even in her present state she maintained a regal look among the other dirty, battered prisoners. Her green eyes glowed all the more brightly in contrast to her grime encrusted face.
As the two men dragged her down the hall, she mentally prepared herself for what she was about to see. The first day they had brought her into the room with Yosu, she vomited. She had never seen a man tortured before and if not for Yosu's strength and his insistence that she not yield to them, she would have given in to their demands. Since then she had been able to ready herself for what she would see.
At least this time, Hihanzo was not along for her trip to the torture chamber. He enjoyed giving her crippling slaps to the face, usually after she promised him that he would die at her hands.
They led her down the now familiar corridors to the room that held Yosu. She could hear no screams coming from his chamber and wondered if they had finally killed him, hoping his suffering was at an end. But as they shoved her through the door to land on her face in the dirt of his cell, she heard him yell out in anger, which was followed by the sound of steel striking bone as Hihanzo clouted him for the outburst.
Revelations of Doom Page 16